


Five Times John Had a Sad Wank And One Time He Didn’t Need To

by Lovefushsia



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: (Almost), 5 Times, 5 plus 1, A Little Bit Funny, But also not, Frustrated John, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, POV John Watson, Pining John, Poor John, also can Sherlock not give him a moment alone?, because, he knows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 04:16:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8042239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovefushsia/pseuds/Lovefushsia
Summary: Well... yeah John has a bit of an obsession getting himself off whilst thinking about Sherlock. Can he overcome it or will Sherlock eventually give him a hand? (Omg I'm so sorry)**Sherlock appeared around the door frame.“I thought you’d gone out, were you sleeping?”John had clearly not been sleeping, his chest was heaving and he could feel the damp sweat on his forehead. “Yeah, yeah I was,” he said, nodding.





	Five Times John Had a Sad Wank And One Time He Didn’t Need To

**1**

John woke up with his hand in his pants. This wasn’t unusual, not at all, not something he would even think twice about. But the vision of his best friend that was still lingering even with his eyes open, that was the part that was different.

He removed his hand. Looked around the still dark room, lips forming a pursed, sort of considering “hmmm,” as he thought about something, _any_ thing else to get the fact out of his mind that he had just been wanking to the image of Sherlock sucking him off.

Oh God, this wasn’t happening. He had one thing to himself, this one area of his new life that wasn’t completely taken over by the man downstairs. And now he had opened up that small part to let in the thoughts that he kept firmly pushed down inside when he was awake.

Now he couldn’t even have a wank without thinking about slipping his fingers through those luscious curls, about imagining those glorious, plump, pink lips wrapped around his cock as he eased himself into the wet and warmth of that mouth. His eyes were closed again. He was too sleepy to resist this, already back to full hardness, just the thought of Sherlock’s hands cupping his balls, squeezing his arse cheeks as he took John in, as he licked and sucked at the head, maybe having to come off a bit because John was too much of a mouthful at first and they needed to practice. John stroking his face, down those beautiful cheekbones; watching as Sherlock pulled at him with his lips, licked across the tip like he was something delicious; the murmurs and moans they would both be making...

His hand was working at the head of his cock now, squeezing and releasing, stroking his thumb over the end at each upward pull. He could feel himself tensing up already, his hand moving in perfect time with his harsh breaths, eyes screwed shut, heart racing. He kicked off the duvet, spread himself out, legs straight and muscles taut as he replaced his thumb with Sherlock’s tongue in his fantasy. Gentle strokes, lapping at the pre-come that was leaking onto John’s fingers now, onto Sherlock’s tongue. He had to stop this fantasy, he wouldn’t be able to look his friend in the eye. But he couldn’t he was too far into it now and he knew it within the haze of near-orgasm that he had found himself. He pushed his hips into his fist and vaguely heard the headboard knock against the wall. Must shove a pillow up there next time. Next time, oh God, he couldn’t do this again, could he?

“Ah,” he cried out, pulling harder at himself, faster, nothing mattered but the feel of his fingers - of Sherlock’s mouth, slipping easily with the pre-come - with the wetness of Sherlock’s saliva. He cried out again, shoving his free hand into his own mouth to stop himself, having that piece of mind at least. He was frantic, reaching the edge, cock so stiff in his hand he thought he’d never experienced this in his life before. And then with a renewed speed he suddenly burst into an orgasm that cramped his stomach and lifted his chest and shoulders off the bed. He rolled to his side a little, knees drawing up as he pulled at his spurting cock, still feeling those delicious imaginary lips kissing and sucking at him, drawing out his pleasure as he writhed on the bed.

When it was done he collapsed onto his back, arms and legs thrown out in a star shape as he blinked and stared up at the ceiling, aiming to get his breathing under control before he moved again.

His hands went into his hair after a few moments, slicking it back with the dampness from his forehead. When had he ever come so hard that he was actually shaking? He wasn’t one for fantasies, for thinking about anything in particular when he touched himself. He didn’t know why, he only knew he was risking his sanity if he had that particular wank fantasy again.

**2**

Waiting out the evening was getting to be the hardest part, wondering if he should wake Sherlock from where he looked like he was asleep on the sofa, watching him sleep, or going up to his room and trying not to imagine what he would rather be doing.

Damn it, why was he having these thoughts now? They’d lived together for a year, why was he torturing himself like this? Every time he felt the urge to be alone with his hand he wasn’t alone anymore. He had Sherlock’s face in his head and thoughts of his hands running over John’s body.

He really didn’t want to be doing this, because every morning he was walking into the kitchen rubbing his hands over his flushed face and looking anywhere but at Sherlock because he had been inappropriately fantasising about him not ten minutes before.

Stop. Just stop it now. He could do this. He could resist the urge. He could abstain for as long as it would take to get these thoughts out of his head. He didn’t need to get himself off every day, it’s not like he’d always done it. Ok yes, yes he had. Every bloody morning since he knew he could. But that wasn’t the point, he could _not_ do this for a month. A week. A couple of days? Until he could think of stars or trees or the pretty blonde in the pharmacy... _Something_ other than those huge eyes staring down at him, the vision of coming all over his chest, of having Sherlock’s hand wrapped around his cock instead of his own.

Oh... _oh fuck it._

John lay there, hand covered in spunk, eyes closed, head rocking back and forth on the pillow. This was getting ridiculous.

**3**

Right, ok, so new plan. Wake up, get up straight away. No slouching around in bed torturing himself and eventually giving in anyway. Curtains open – ok no, too bright – and downstairs to the bathroom.

Of course, halfway down the stairs and there was Sherlock, coming out of his room, running long fingers through those thick curls, dressing gown flowing around an otherwise half-naked, slender, delectable body. John let out a loud sigh before he could even begin to stop it.

Sherlock looked up. John, flustered and with a raging hard-on barely concealed, he knew, by his pyjama bottoms, especially in this raised position on the stairs, started back up the stairs, turned again to apologise for absolutely nothing, finally feigned that he’d forgotten his slippers and Sherlock should go ahead into the bathroom before him.

He slammed the door once he was back in his room, leaned against it and methodically knocked his head against it a few times. He was not a teenager. Sherlock was his friend. His best friend. This was getting so far out of hand that John didn’t know where to even start to fix it.

A knock on his door a few minutes later had him jumping a foot. “Yeah?” he croaked and Sherlock, voice growing instantly fainter as he apparently wasn’t hanging around up there, called to him that the bathroom was free. “Thanks,” John called. The only good thing was that the need to orgasm had now been overtaken by a greater urge to pee. He stomped back down the stairs and spent too long in the bathroom until he heard Sherlock leave the flat. John was a little out of touch with their cases and clearly he wasn’t needed today. He definitely needed some air though.

**4**

No, no way this was not fair. It was one thing not being able to shake fantasies when he was awake, but when he was asleep? Now even his own body was betraying him and giving him no choice in how he came – writhing and swearing and seeing only those eyes again as he did.

John rolled over, tried to pretend that hadn’t happened, desperately clutched at flitting thoughts of birds and breakfast while he reached for the radio button to drown out anything more worrying.

But he couldn’t avoid the fact that his subconscious was now in on the act and he had a real problem. He actually did want to sleep with his best friend. But was this just a proximity thing? It was common to grow attached to someone you spent a lot of time with and they were together all of the time. Ok, so John needed some space. He needed to take more hours at the surgery. Go for long walks after work. Sherlock could get along without him for a while and then things would go back to normal.

He didn’t want to ruin their friendship with this. This was _Sherlock_ for God’s sake. The man had no interest in sex or relationships and John was dreaming of things that could never be. So therefore he could stop it.

He felt a little better about things as he walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge and grabbed the milk. He was managing to focus on only his bowl of cereal until the swish of silk made him look up and the sight of Sherlock in the doorway, hands on his lean hips, pyjamas so low John could see his appendix scar stark against pale skin. His eyes drifted further and Sherlock’s aversion to underwear was clearly evident this morning, barely concealing the outline of what John had so often imagined.

The clatter of his spoon in the bowl made them both jump and John blinked and flushed all over as Sherlock frowned down at him. “John? What’s wrong with you? Have you heard any of what I was saying?”

“Uh- no, I think, sorry, I need to go,” John stammered, and he shoved back the chair and ran for cover.

**5**

Good, yeah, yeah this was better, porn - why hadn’t he thought of this before? Toned, bronzed, impossible bodies sliding against each other. Bodies John wasn’t attracted to in any way, but the intense visuals were definitely focusing him, even with the sound off on his phone - there was no chance of his mind drifting. He could feel his orgasm building, and he shifted his position slightly, the duvet rubbing against him enflamed things further and with a few more tugs he eased back a bit, stroking himself with a firm grasp. He was beginning to leak, so close, so close. He dropped the phone and closed his eyes, head touching the pillow as the tension grew in his groin and spiralled outwards.

“John?”

_Shit, oh God, fuck, fuck, fuck -_

John barely restrained his cry or the groan which wanted desperate release as he came into his hand biting hard on his lower lip.

The door opened and he tugged the covers over himself just in time, but his phone fell to the floor as Sherlock appeared around the door frame.

“I thought you’d gone out, were you sleeping?”

John had clearly not been sleeping, his chest was heaving and he could feel the damp sweat on his forehead. “Yeah, yeah I was,” he said, nodding.

Sherlock stooped by the side of the bed and John’s face scrunched up involuntarily as he saw the phone in his friend’s hand. Sherlock dropped it onto the bed by John’s hip.

“I didn’t think that was your thing,” Sherlock said, eyebrow raised, small smirk at the corner of his mouth.

 _Oh God._ “Mmm?” he said, completely panicked and having no words to defend or explain away any of what Sherlock must be seeing.

“The ladies normally seem to get your close attention, I didn’t realise you could be tempted by either sex.”

John just blinked at him. Sherlock was... laughing at him? Curious? “Um.”

“He looks a little like you, the one on top,” Sherlock said, and John grabbed the phone and turned off the screen with a quick swipe. He’d thought the other guy looked like Sherlock. He wanted to jump out of the bed and storm out, but he was naked, and covered in spunk. He suffered for another moment, clutching to his duvet with one hand at his neck, while Sherlock stepped further into the room and walked over to the window.

“You should join me on this case John, you might find it interesting.”

“You mean you need help?”

Sherlock tutted at him. “No, of course not.”

John smiled despite his discomfort. “What’s it about?”

“Get dressed first. It’s easier if I show you.”

“Do you mind... giving me a minute?” John said, gesturing to his situation when Sherlock looked back at him.

Sherlock frowned, but he left the room with a brief nod. He poked his head back a moment later just as John was shifting the duvet off himself. “Sherlock-” John crossed his legs and scratched his head as he tried to keep some dignity. “What now?”

“I just wondered, if you were having trouble with your girlfriend? You’re spending a lot of time alone recently.”

“What? No, I haven’t got a girlfriend at the moment,” John said.

“Ah, well, maybe you should start getting out more John, too much porn can be detrimental to your health.”

John chucked a pillow at him, dignity be damned.

**And the one time he didn’t need to.**

John was still reeling from Sherlock’s reaction to his viewing choice that morning. It wasn’t so much the fact that he wasn’t entirely comfortable with Sherlock knowing he watched porn, he was fairly sure his friend already knew that.

But that he was watching gay porn, well that was a bit different, he would have thought Sherlock should have been more surprised by that.

The fact was he still couldn’t get himself off without some kind of intervention by Sherlock, and he was beginning to wonder if he should even bother trying to avoid it. Maybe he should just embrace it and gradually he’d be more able to hide it from his friend.

Sherlock wasn’t back yet and John was getting more complacent as time went on, he was home alone and relaxed on the sofa and his hand edged up from resting on his thigh to his groin and he started a gentle rub. Soon enough his hand was in his pants and those familiar images came into view as he closed his eyes and rested his head back.

A creak of a floorboard should have made him open his eyes, remove his hand, but he was close and he was alone, this was fine. And the gentle pressure beside him on the sofa was part of his fantasy of course. He really didn’t need to turn his head to the side and open his eyes to know that he was still alone. But he did, and the explosion that happened in his pants was most definitely real when he saw Sherlock sitting there beside him, actually right there - with his hand in his own pants as he watched John.

Sherlock looked on as John’s wild orgasm subsided and he tried to just breathe as his friend carried on – just kept on masturbating right there while John blinked at him.

John’s voice was ragged, barely there as he choked out, “Oh, my God, Sherlock, what are you doing?”

“I wanted to see what all the fuss was about,” he said calmly, and John was transfixed, watching his hand, smoothly, slowly run up and down his sleek, long cock.

“What do you think about when you do this, John?”

“You don’t want to know that.”

“I do, tell me.”

John didn’t even breathe, the word was out there in a heartbeat. “You. Just you, for weeks now, I can’t stop.”

“I know.”

“You _know_?”

“Powers of deduction, John,” Sherlock reminded.

John inched closer. “Doesn’t it bother you?”

“Would I be sitting here if it did?”

True enough.

“What timescales do we usually work with here?”

“Sherlock, will you shut up and concentrate?” John told him, finally letting a smile creep onto his face. If this was a one-off then he would never need to create his own fantasies ever again. And if it wasn’t... well then, he was in heaven.

Sherlock looked at him as he leaned further back into the sofa cushions. “Maybe a little help would be useful,” he said, and John felt the electric pleasure of Sherlock’s hand on his wrist, lifting his hand to rest against Sherlock’s thigh. “If you’d like,” he added.

John would like.

**Author's Note:**

> My first 5 times fic! I'm actually stupidly pleased with this one.


End file.
